


The cracks in your heart they look just like mine

by hopeinyourheart



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Healing, LFC, Liverpool F.C., M/M, Team as Family, after the that horrible awful cl defeat, because they all need some comforting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeinyourheart/pseuds/hopeinyourheart
Summary: Liverpool fc wasn’t over, they would stand for years to come and every second of it was going to be full of hope.





	The cracks in your heart they look just like mine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Until the Drought is Over](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717302) by [thesecretdetectivecollection](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection). 



Hendo sobs into Kloppo's shoulder, he can't breathe, the tears just flow and they don’t stop flowing and he feels like he's drowning in them. No one matter how many times this happened it hurt like hell. He clings to Jurgen like he was a child and Jurgen was his father protecting him from all the horrors in the world, apart from Jurgen isn't his actual father and he has several other players to look out for.  

He pulls Hendo away from him slowly, giving him a warm smile that Hendo feels he doesn’t deserve before he walks away and consoles Loris who is sobbing uncontrollably. Hendo feels awful that he wasn’t comforting any of their lads but he couldn’t stop crying.  

This was the exact opposite of Roma, the side he didn’t want to experience, not again, never again but he was here and they were crying on the pitch instead of celebrating. Hendo thinks that he'll never get the chance at lifting anything. He had three opportunities in the last three years and he failed them all. The pain of that burns the back of his throat. 

In the locker room everyone looks forlorn.  

Hendo lies on his hotel bed. The light from the street lamps illuminates the entire room, he doesn’t have enough strength to pull the curtains on or switch the lamp on. His skin feels like its burning. He's been here so many times before, always on the wrong side of success, always defeated.  

He prays for it sometimes; the victory but after the third time he felt this defeated he gave up on it. It felt like someone was reveling in his pain, taking pride in the club's misery. He doesn’t want to move because moving meant he would feel the numbness in his bones, feel the pain in his heart and the tears running down his cheek. Moving meant the pain in his body was real and Hendo wasn’t ready to feel that.  

Normally Hendo would call a team meeting, order some pizza and put on a feel-good movie for the lads, as they sat in his vicinity, comforting each other and healing together. Hendo hates how that meeting is a normalcy, hates how he's had to do it several times before because they were fallen men. Hates how life just couldn’t give them one ounce of victory, hates how the hope sucked them in and chewed them and when they needed it most, spat them out with nothing to hold on to.  

He doesn’t know what to do. He knows he should be taking care of the lads, he knows they should all be together in order to heal and move on but he just can't. The creak of the door opening startles him from his thoughts, he can't see who it is through the darkness but when they climb into bed with him he knows it's Adam.  

"Stop moping," Adam says burying into him. Hendo turns onto his side gathering Adam into his arms and crying silently into his neck.  

"Says you," he says after a while, voice hoarse. Adam gives him a watery smile as he plays with the hem of Hendo's shirt.  

"I just.... I just wanted it once," he breathes brokenly. "Not for the club or the fans but for us. For you and me and Dejan and Momo. And Loris. Fuck Hendo he didn’t deserve that. We don’t deserve this. How are we here again?" 

Hendo doesn’t know. He wishes he had a tactical analysis on why they got screwed over in every single final they had ever played in, wishes he knew why the higher powers specifically hated them personally. Hendo knows the club and the fans deserved this more than anything but he knows what Adam means.  

"The club's always going to be here," Adam continues "and the fans won't ever leave, but we'll never get this again." Adam's eyes are full of tears. "Just...we won't ever get to another final, not as good as we did this one," Hendo knows hes right. "I- I wanted it for the team more than anything," he says, eyes full of tears.  

He was right. This squad, all their hard work over the season, they'd never get this again, they never got to show how good they were to the world, they couldn’t cap off the season the right way. They never could and it always ended in tears and heartbreak.  

Hendo wonders if someone made a pact with the devil, or maybe with an angel. There was a flaw in the club, maybe it was too much love. Hendo will never get over the love the fans had, they loved this club no matter what and he saw that and maybe it was a fault, maybe if they all cared less the universe wouldn’t revel in their pain. 

Hendo swipes a thumb over Adam's cheek, "we'll be alright," he says leaning his forehead against Adam's. It's what he would have said to most of the lads, and they would be, Hendo knows it. He has picked himself up from a loss before, brushed it off and started again, continued through the pain and been fine. Maybe they'll never get here again and that really hurt but he had been to a champions league final and he had too cherished it for the sake of his wellbeing.  

"I need to call the meeting," he breathes into the air.  

"Most of the lads are with Milner, I said I'd come and get you. He knew you weren't doing good so he said he'd call the meeting." Hendo nods grateful that there was always someone on the other side of him to pick things up if he couldn’t. Being captain was an honor but most of the time it felt like a task; sometimes he wants to trade it in for a mundane 9 to 5 job every weekday.  

"Wanna head over?" Adam asks, eyes drooping sleepily from the crying. Hendo nods.  

* 

It feels like Liverpool has died when the final whistle goes.  

It feels the end of something Emre can't quite put his finger on but the pain of it wraps itself around his windpipe choking him from the inside. Dying from his own pain.  

Hendo is wrapped up in Kloppo's arms sobbing his heart out, most of the lads look crestfallen. Collecting the medals feels numb and mundane; another silver to add to his collection of not quite good enough, never good enough, stuffed away at the back of his closet haunting him on his worst days.  

When he thinks about not making it, when he reads comments saying he isn't worth it, that he's shit. When he thinks about how maybe this team is better off without him, maybe it was his fault, maybe he wanted it too much so they lost it; that's when he thinks about how he has proof in the form of the wrong colour medals sitting in his home because they were right. He couldn’t do it, maybe he never would.  

He couldn’t even make it to the world cup, he couldn’t even help this club in any final, he thought he was important but he wasn’t, not really and now it had ended in tears again. Madrid's ceremonies start and Emre's heart starts to cave in on itself. Most of the lads are making their way to the locker room but Emre sees Loris sitting on the goal line head in his hand, medal sitting to the side of him.  

Emre slumps down next to him, the only people in the stadium were a few Madrid fans and the Madrid team themselves, Emre was used to this, feeling this pain, seeing a team that wasn’t his celebrating.  

"Loris," Emre breathes understanding his pain, his body was shaking from the sobs. Emre puts a hand on the nape of his neck pulling him closer. "Loris come on," he says quietly into the top of his hair. He hated this part, seeing his teammates blaming themselves, seeing them fall apart. He was younger last time, the pain consumed him for hours on end and he'd thought he'd never heal. He thinks Loris feels the same way.  

"Don’t blame yourself Lo," Loris slumps down against him crying into his neck. Emre grabs the back of his jersey, just holding on and feeling Loris sob into his skin. It felt real, the feel of the tears hitting his skin and the brush of Loris' hair under his chin, nothing had felt this real all night. Emre hasn’t cried but his chest constricts at the amount of pain Loris is in. He just wishes that for once they wouldn’t fall, that for once they could be hailed as kings, for once even if just for a fleeting second Liverpool could have a glimmer of something good so Emre could grab onto it and show Loris. 

So Loris would stop feeling like this, like his world had fallen apart, like everything was his fault. He prays for a glimmer of hope sat under a goalpost that has just destroyed them, holding a man that was destroyed while a few yards away the team that destroyed them celebrated.  

They sit there until Loris stops crying, until his body stops shaking and Madrid have gone inside. Emre strokes his hair once before getting up and pulling Loris with him.  

In the locker room, Kloppo apologises. He says sorry to each and every one of the lads, he apologizes to the media and he hugs each one of the lads for way too long, telling them how proud he was of them. Kloppo hugs Loris a little too tightly and a little longer than the rest of them. Loris is emotionless at this point, a shell of the person Emre is used to seeing and it breaks his heart.  

He looks around the locker room and sees Dejan with tear tracks on his face, sees Bobby and Alberto sitting together silently, sees the fury in Adam's eyes, and Hendo's red face from crying. He knows how this goes, everyone will shower and pack in silence, sit on the couch in silence, head to the hotel in silence and then Hendo will call a meeting in his room with pizza and a movie. He's done this before.  

He doesn’t want to do it again but it looks like the lads need it. Emre wants to make sure Loris is ok and then get on a plane, dump his phone in the sea and sit on the beach forever in silence. Emre showers not really feeling the water hit his skin, dresses and packs and waits for Loris to be done. He's barely moving at this point, just about managing to dress himself so Emre packs his things for him before they head to the bus.  

In the hotel room, Loris climbs onto the bed shoving his face into the pillow. Emre sighs, tired and drained. He climbs onto the bed too pulling Loris closer and running his fingers through his hair. "We're still a team Lo," Emre says against his hairline. This was by far the worst loss they had suffered. It hurt deep in their guts and Emre knew Loris felt like he was choking.  

"They all blame me," Loris breathes into Emre's neck after a long while, tears falling into Emre's skin again once again. Emre squeezes him tighter.  

"They don’t, don’t read that shit ok." Emre makes a mental note to take Loris' phone away from him for the time being, it was only going to do more harm than good. "I know it feels awful but it'll be fine trust me, they'll forget and they'll keep singing and the pain will be a distant memory," Emre says into the dark room. "Stop crying Lo," he pleads. Loris wasn’t here the last time, this was his first major loss but Emre knows he's going to be fine. He has to be.  

"Why aren't you crying?" Loris hiccups. Emre sighs, titling his head to the ceiling, because it hurt, because it didn’t, because it felt the same as last time, because he didn’t know how to, because he had to hold Loris together, because if he started he wouldn’t stop.  

"You're leaving aren't you," Loris breathes with one hand clutching at the material of Emre's shirt. Emre tilts his head back down, pulls Loris closer with the hand he has on the small of his back. Emre doesn’t know what to say.  

 _Yes, no, I don’t know._ _Im_ _not leaving you_. Nothing sounds real or sincere enough, he doesn’t know what to say and words seem to be failing him, "maybe," he says instead; a tiny consolation to fill the silence. Loris nods.  

"Would you have stayed if we won?" he asks. Emre remembers all the bad times before this. how he's stuck around, smiled through the pain, mourned the loss and gone out and played his heart out again. He knows and understands loss, he didn’t run away from it but he doesn’t know what his destiny was anymore. He really tried and life slapped him down multiple times and it hurt. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know what it feels like to win. Maybe everything would have been different but he just doesn't know anymore  

"I feel like leaving too," Loris breathes into the air. "Maybe we can leave together and live on a beach somewhere alone and be happy."  

A few tears slip down the side of Emre's face, "sounds like a plan," he says, making a promise in a random room in Kiev in the middle of the night while it felt like his life had just ended but that promise felt like the realest thing he had ever said.   

 

* 

James looks over the room, remembers the last time they were here. How lucas looked after Phil and Alberto and Bobby. The two of them only had each other now. Emre was young and alone that time, with only Dejan for comfort, most of them just sprawled everywhere.  

This time Bobby and Alberto are wrapped around Sadio who smiles at them beautifully like his heart wasn’t broken. Dejan is wrapped around Mo, checking to see he wasn’t hurting his injured arm every two seconds with concerned eyes. Virgil and Gini were sat on the floor, not quite touching but near enough for comfort. Physical contact wasn’t really there thing but they understood each other on a personal level. Ben and Trent were curled into a ball on the couch, wrapped around each other like it was going to keep the world at bay while Clyney and Ox sat together on the armchair. Joe and Dom were leaning on each other on the floor at the foot of the chair.  Migs sprawls himself out on the bottom on the bed. James smiles at him. Andy and Danny are leaning against the wall, dozing off against each other.  

Emre and Loris and Hendo and Adam hadn't turned up yet but James knows they’ll be herre after their own bit of comforting. The boxes of pizza just pile up on the table, untouched seeing as no one had an appetite and none of them were really watching the movie but having them all here in the same room meant that they were all hurting and healing together. They all took some comfort in that.  

They were a family, and they would get through this together.  

Hendo and Adam turn up half asleep and broken, they sit on the bed beside James, Adam tucking himself into the curves of  Hendo's body and dozing off to sleep. Hendo looks around the room, sees all their broken hearts and faces and sighs through the bout of pain flowing through his blood. He turns and looks at James, giving him a small smile, which said everything he couldn’t with words. James knows he's saying thanks; for being the pillar, for stepping up and being there and taking care of them. James knows how it works and he was ready to be there for them.  

Emre and Loris show up an hour later. Loris looked broken and small tucked away in an oversized hoodie making him look frail. He was tucked under Emre's arm, emotionless, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ben and Trent move up on the couch to make room for them. James doesn’t know what to say to make it better he doesn’t think anything will not right now but he hates seeing it.  

Every single one of them has shouldered the blame but it was going to take a while to see that. The new lads might not understand the meaning of losing together but the old and weathered ones would always see them through. James thinks Emre has said enough to just about get Loris into the same room as the rest of the team. Loris hadn't spoken or looked at any of them but he was here and it was progress.  

He watches them, broken pieces of the men they were five hours ago, a spat-out image of men at war who made it home but didn’t quite heal and they wouldn’t. There would always a scar, of what could have been, of not being the best, of losing again but the thing with scars was, they were a reminder of the pain and the suffering and how you fought so hard. And James knows they will all fight again come tomorrow when they were home.  

It would start again. They would change and shower and go home and the people of Liverpool will still love them because it was their nature and whether some of them left or not they would be ok because life still carried on and there would be another game. Another bout of hope. Another 'we go again' and another chance at this.  

Broken didn’t mean finished because they most definitely weren't. Broken meant healing and this was the most exciting start of something the club and fans had ever created that James had ever been a part off and he, for one, couldn’t wait to witness to the continuation of it.  

Liverpool fc wasn’t over, they would stand for years to come and every second of it was going to be full of hope.  

**Author's Note:**

> i just had to write something because man that was painful, i couldn't sleep all night so i wrote this instead and it's my way of trying to heal. i really wanted them to get it for them ykno, not for the club trophy tally, or even the fans but because they deserved it with everything they had,  
> but yh maybe one day ill get to write a victory piece who knows, thanks for reading


End file.
